


and formed the bruises you said you didn't want to fade

by blueabsinthe



Series: We Were Emergencies [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Biting, Breathplay, Bruises, Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bringing up old wounds, in more ways than one, is never the best thing to do. Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	and formed the bruises you said you didn't want to fade

**Author's Note:**

> Covers the time span from February 10th to March 7th. 
> 
> The title is from the song _Tiny Vessels_ , by Death Cab for Cutie.

Vince felt like death warmed over, which he supposed should come with the territory. Except, this did not feel like your typical 'nursing hockey injuries' song and dance. No, this felt more mental, which Vince surmised was why he felt so drained. Both mentally and physically. His thoughts were churning, much like the clouds outside his window. They were coming off a five to two win over the Devils. The Jets were in town the next night. Ryan seemed ready to return to the ice, and Vince was quite sure he would play. 

The air around him is charged, and he half-wonders if his emotions are mimicking the weather outside. There is a storm coming, Vince thinks. After all these years in Tampa, he has grown accustomed to knowing the sometimes peculiar weather patterns. The storm brewing reminds him of Ryan's eyes on that long ago night in February. It takes Vince back to the morning after that February night. 

The morning sun on February tenth had tickled his arms, the sounds of New York City pulling him the rest of the way out of his slumber. He awoke in a thick fog, his face buried in the pillow. His head throbbed, much like it would of if he had been hungover. Vince knew it wasn't an alcohol induced haze he was fighting. No, it was more of an 'oh, look at me, I'm an emotional train wreck, let me fuck it out with someone who is just, if not, more of an emotional train wreck than me' type of headache. 

Vince rolled onto his back, and propped himself up on his elbows as he willed his mind to stop spinning. He vaguely registers he is still naked, his clothes strewn on the floor. A flash of blue catches his eyes, and he rubs at his eyes in an effort to rid his mind of how that tie looked as it slid off Ryan's neck. This, of course, proved fruitless, seeing as how all it did was bring up the time Ryan had looped a blue silk tie around his wrists and bound them to the bed posts. 

He can almost hear the ripping of silk, and smell the scent of sex in the air. Vince rubs a hand over his face, and groans as his head throbs with pain. Vince slowly swung his feet off the bed, and got slowly to his feet. The shower was calling to him, and Vince reasoned he would feel ten times better afterwards.

When he stepped from the shower, Vince felt minutely better. His thoughts were still churning with the prospect of having to see Brad and Hank later on that night. Not to mention, he may run in to them after afternoon skate. 

He wraps the towel around his waist and makes his way back into his hotel room. When he finally did manage to swing his eyes back to the bed, he found it empty. Which, Vince shouldn't have been surprised by, except he feels a little twinge of something stir in his chest. 

" _You should stay_."

" _Should I now?_ " 

That is how their exchange had gone last night before they fell asleep, their fingers intertwined. An intimate gesture to say the least. One, Vince was not surprised Ryan would eventually shy away from. But, for Ryan to leave entirely … well, Vince couldn't quite come up with an appropriate reaction for the feelings churning in his stomach. 

Vince gathers up his scattered clothing, his fingers eventually falling on the flash of blue silk he briefly saw when he first woke up. In Ryan's haste to leave, he left behind his tie. The silk is cool against his fingers as he raises it from the floor. It still holds the smell of Ryan's cologne, Vince realized as he makes a spur of the moment decision and shoves it into his bag. 

" _The tie's a replacement. Kind of like how Brad found a replacement for you_." 

Ryan's words from last night haunt him long after he dresses and exits his room. He makes it down to the lobby moments before they have to depart for practice. His eyes catch on Ryan's as they step from the hotel entrance, the bitter cold enveloping him in its icy embrace almost immediately. 

He almost regrets not taking something for his headache as it returns in full force. 

They drop the game to the Rangers. Five to one. An absolutely embarrassing showing. Vince was frustrated. A sentiment he knew was shared amongst his teammates. He wanted nothing more than to board the chartered flight, get back to Tampa, and make up for the loss with the game against the Canadiens on the twelfth. 

As he pulls on his clothing following the game, his eyes catch on the blue tie still nestled in amongst his belongings. His breath catches briefly at a memory from last night. Him on his knees, Ryan fucking his mouth. Vince runs a hand through his hair in an effort to turn his thoughts from the memory. He pulls the tie from his bag, and shoves it into his pocket, before he gathers up his belongings and hurries out of the locker room.

The jet engines from the plane are somewhat comforting. He falls asleep almost as soon as he gets seated, and doesn't wake until he feels Marty shaking him. 

He is gathering up his suitcase, when he feels Ryan standing next to him. Their eyes catch briefly. Ryan's cornflower blue eyes look blank, and remote. Vince wants to shake him, yell at him, anything to quell the anger at the loss. He wants to reach out, and run a hand through Ryan's curly hair, tug on his tie, pull him across the space separating them.

Wordlessly, Vince reaches into his pocket, extricates the blue tie, and stuffs it into the side pocket of Ryan's bag, before he turns and walks away silently. 

The rest of February passes by in a blur. There are far too many losses along the way. Some hurt more than others. And then, just like that, Vince finds himself back in New York again. 

They lose that game to the Rangers. Four to one. It is a series sweep. It stings more than it should. Except, Vince is numb. Ryan's missed time with an injury, which, Vince knows shouldn't bother him. Players get injured all the time. He supposes if their games had not felt like such a roller-coaster ride, it would bother him less. Then again, he thinks maybe it wouldn't matter either way.

Vince can't seem to move from his spot from the window, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Ryan and him hadn't really talked since February. Normally, this would not be troublesome, except, it was. Vince knew this went far beyond just loneliness eating away at him. Everything in his life seemed to be coloured differently since moving on from Brad. 

Maybe Ryan was right. Maybe he was just looking for a cheap replacement. Except, and this was the niggling thought in his brain, Vince wasn't so sure he wanted Ryan to be just a replacement. He wanted more. The thought struck a chord in Vince. He didn't dare breathe it out loud, though. 

Ryan was anything but an open book. The inner workings of his thoughts never seemed to bubble to the surface. Vince only sees flashes of Ryan's personality. He feels like Ryan is constantly raging a war with his thoughts, not to mention, emotions. Vince wonders what Ryan would look like, if his eyes were scrubbed raw of all that control he tries so desperately to hang on to. He briefly wonders if a certain goaltender for the Phoenix Coyotes has ever seen Ryan stripped of all his layers. 

Vince recalls a time when Brad would look at him like that. Scrubbed raw of everything. Like he was laying his life in Vince's hands. 

_Take my heart, but please don't break it_ , Brad's eyes seemed to say when he fell apart in Vince's arms. 

Vince squeezes his eyes shut, and wills his mind to stop thinking about Brad. 

" _You keep your eyes open the whole time_ …" 

" _Je vais t'aimer toujours_ …"

" _I was afraid_ …" 

Vince grips the counter as his and Brad's words meld together, like the swirls in the tiny peppermint candies given out at the end of meals in restaurants. The feelings lodged in his chest are stuck at a fever pitch, and Vince wonders how long it will be until they explode. He feels like he can't breathe. He has to get out of here. 

Before he realizes what he is doing, Vince has grabbed his keys and is climbing into his car. The sky is ominous, the clouds near bursting with rain as he pulls out of his driveway. It starts to sprinkle lightly as he crosses the Davis Island bridge, and by the time he parks and hurries towards Ryan's apartment, it is absolutely pouring. 

He's soaked to the skin by the time he arrives at Ryan's door, and knocks none too lightly on the door.

Ryan appears at the door a few moments later, a lazy grin on his lips. 

"Jesus Christ, Captain, what the hell happened to you?" 

Vince lifts his head, his eyes travelling from Ryan's bare feet, over his threadbare sweat pants, and across his chest. The bright edges of Ryan's colourful tattoos peek out from the short sleeves of his shirt. They seem to be the only colours Vince's mind registers in that instant. 

He has so many things he wants to say to Ryan, starting mostly with wanting to know why Ryan has all but ignored him since coming back from New York. All his thoughts and words die on his lips as he walks inside Ryan's place, and kicks the door closed with his foot. He gets his hand balled in a fist on the front of Ryan's shirt, before he hauls him across the space separating them. Before Ryan can utter a snide comment, Vince slams their mouths together, swallowing any extraneous noises Ryan may have made. 

He has Ryan pinned against the wall a moment later, his mouth leaving Ryan's to travel down the column of his neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of his throat. He can hear the low, guttural groan Ryan makes, his hands sliding over Vince's sides, before they are tangling in Vince's hair, yanking Vince's head back. 

Vince half-expects Ryan to have some snarky comment ready as their eyes meet across the space, and Vince watches as Ryan's lip twitches in amusement, before he smiles. It is a lazy, half-crooked one. The type that Vince always finds equal parts infuriating and sexy as hell. It causes his blood to boil.

"Well, hello to you too, _Captain_ ," Ryan says. 

"Don't fucking start with me right now, Malone."

Ryan rolls his eyes, and shrinks his body away from Vince. "Really? I was rather quite enjoying how you practically barged in here, and practically jumped me." 

"You fucking love it," Vince hissed, tugging on Ryan's shirt, his forehead pressed against Ryan's. "Don't even deny it."

"Why are you here, Captain?"

Vince slides his lips down Ryan's arm, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of Ryan's upper arm. "I thought that much was obvious by now."

Ryan slides his hands down Vince's sides, his fingers moving slightly under the hem of Vince's shirt, his thumbs pressing against Vince's hipbones. "And I'm supposed to play along?"

Vince bit on his bottom lip, as the pads of Ryan's thumbs brushing over his hipbones sent currents of heat through his system, before they settled in his groin. "Stop acting like you don't want to."

"Oh, Captain, where's the fun in all that?" 

Vince tugs Ryan away from the wall and all but shoves him down the hall, until Ryan falls down onto the couch. Vince rids himself of his shirt before he straddles Ryan at the waist, and stares down into the blue of his eyes. Ryan has an infuriating smirk on his face. The kind that makes Vince want to smack him. In fact, he gets his arm about halfway up to do so, but he stops short when he feels Ryan's fingers curling around his neck. Ryan doesn't move his hand for a moment, his eyes assessing and intense as he holds Vince's gaze. Ryan is silent, his expression focused and slightly raw. 

Despite the rawness of Ryan's gaze, Vince still feels like there is a distance in his eyes. A self-imposed distance, really, but distance all the same. "Does Mike know you're this mouthy during foreplay?" he says, hoping it would be enough to garner a reaction from Ryan. 

He thinks he sees something flicker in the depths of Ryan's cornflower blue eyes, but it disappears almost as quickly as it came about. 

"You really came all the way here to take a dig at my past relationships?" Ryan's eyes are challenging. "I expected better of you, Captain." Ryan's eyes move over Vince, scrutinizing his every move. "Then again, that is why you're here isn't it? Dear Bradley lit a fire back in February, and didn't bother putting it out. But, oh, that's right, he's found someone else to light up, and extinguish."

Vince's irritation with Ryan reaches its tipping point then, and he tugs Ryan's hand away from his neck, before he tugs Ryan's shirt off roughly. "You really annoy me, y'know that?" Vince grits out. 

Ryan chuckles, raising his hand again, his fingers applying just the slightest bit of pressure to Vince's throat. He eases the pressure when he hears Vince's breath hitch slightly. "And yet you still come to see me." Ryan's voice is deadpan, his hand still pressing against Vince's throat, while his other hand slides over Vince's side. "If you're not careful, I may get the wrong idea, Captain."

Vince gives Ryan a withering look, but his reply dies on his lips when he feels Ryan's fingers squeeze his throat again gently, and he swears he bit his lip in two when the tips of Ryan's other fingers pressed down slightly on the edge of a bruise peeking out slightly from the waistband of his jeans.

Vince sucks in his breath sharply, and squirms against Ryan as he feels his cock twitch. 

Damn it all to hell.

Ryan smirks. "You were saying, Captain?" His grip on Vince's throat tightens minutely, the fingers of his other hand trace the outline of the bruise he had just irritated. Vince can't stop the whimper that escapes his throat, and he grinds his hips shamelessly against Ryan. 

"Fuck, Malone," he gasps as Ryan fits his hand around the curve of his hip, and presses his hand down hard. The sting of pain shoots through Vince's system, and he jerks his hips, swearing in a mixture of English and French. He smacks Ryan's shoulder, but he may as well have been swatting at a fly for all the good it did him.

"Isn't that usually how this goes?" Ryan's voice is low, almost predatory, as he pulls Vince's head down towards his, his mouth against the shell of Vince's ear. He slides his hand away from Vince's head, and Vince can hear the rasp of his zipper being lowered, and the slight tug as Ryan gets the button undone on his jeans. "Relax, Captain …" 

Vince bites his bottom lip as Ryan's voice sends currents of heat through his system. He trembles, and squirms as he feels his dick go from half-hard to hard enough to cut glass. "Easy for you …" Vince trails off as Ryan pushes him to a standing position, so he can lower Vince's jeans and underwear. Vince straddles Ryan at the hips again, and sucks his breath in sharply as Ryan's fingers brush over his cock. "Easy for you to say, Malone," Vince finishes in a voice that sounds just as shredded as his control. 

Ryan's laughter causes a fresh stream of irritation to run through Vince's veins, and he glares at him. He has his hands pressed against Ryan's chest, his fingers tracing the outline of colourful ink on Ryan's chest. Ryan has slid his hand away from Vince's throat, and is trailing it down Vince's arm, his thumb gravitating to the nearly healed bruise dotting the inside of Vince's upper arm. 

He lets out a tsk-tsk sound, and through Vince's lust addled brain he vaguely registers Ryan is mocking him. "You really should take better care of yourself, Captain," Ryan says, teeth nipping at the inside of Vince's wrist, before he let his lips trail up Vince's arm. He fits his mouth over the curve of Vince's shoulder, and he hears Vince's sharp intake of breath, before his teeth nip at his shoulder, and his thumb presses down on the bruise. 

Vince loses all coherent thought as the twinge of pain shoots straight to his groin, and he cannot help it as he grinds shamelessly down against Ryan's groin. "Jesus fuck, Malone."

"Don't tell me," Ryan starts, as he pulls his head away from Vince's shoulder, eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips. "This turns you on?" He chuckles, and presses his thumb down against Vince's bicep, as his teeth graze the side of Vince's neck. "Why, Captain, I had no idea." Ryan nips a little harder than usual at Vince's neck, which earns him a moan, and the feel of Vince's hands digging into his hips. 

"What does this all say about you, then, Malone?" Vince hisses, doing his best to keep his thoughts straight as Ryan's fingers curl around his neck again. Vince cannot help but think Ryan is getting some kind of sick pleasure out of irritating the old bruises. And, this of course, makes him wonder about just what exactly went wrong with Ryan and Mike's relationship. "Is this like some fucked up kind of therapy for you? Do you get off on the feel of being this in control?" 

"Hardly," Ryan responds. "Maybe I just enjoy making you come so hard you forget your name." Ryan's fingers apply a hint more pressure to Vince's neck, as his teeth nip at Vince's shoulder. 

"Fucking hell," Vince gasps out as Ryan's teeth bite at his shoulder hard enough that Vince knows there will be a mark there later on. "I swear to god, Malone, if you stop now, I will fucking …"

Ryan runs his tongue along the edges of the bite mark he has just made, his lips curved into a smile against Vince's skin. "Oh, Captain, I wouldn't dream of stopping. What do you take me for?"

"A sadistic bastard," Vince says through gritted teeth, and lets the absolutely obscene moan escape his lips as Ryan's teeth graze the bite mark he has just made.

Vince's dick is leaking onto his stomach, and Ryan's short bark of laughter reaches his ears as he feels Ryan running his index finger through the stickiness. "Damn, Captain, I haven't even touched you."

"Maybe you should consider doing that then," Vince hisses out, grinding his cock against Ryan. "Come on, Malone. Show me what you got."

Ryan curls his hands around Vince's hips, holding him tightly against him. "You want me to make you come? You want me to make you beg?" He slides a hand across Vince's leg. "You like it when I make you lose control? It excites you, doesn't it?"

Ryan's words are like a gut shot, and Vince's rhythm falters slightly, before he focuses all his attention on Ryan. Vince rides Ryan's thigh harder, his rhythm growing increasingly erratic. "Fuck, Malone … fuck, fuck, fuck," Vince gasps over and over again like he is reciting a prayer. 

Ryan manages to press down hard with his hand against the bruise on Vince's hip, while his free hand finally does curl around his dick. He watches as Vince's eyes flutter rapidly, the knuckles from his hand pressed against his mouth as he finally loses it. 

"Ryan -" Vince moans as he finally loses it. His come spurts hotly against Ryan's stomach, and Vince rubs the white spatters into the ink demarcating Ryan's tanned skin.

He lets his breath out in a whoosh, and leans his forehead against Ryan's, as his hand manages to extricate Ryan's cock from his pants. 

Ryan's hard, and leaking as Vince curls his fingers around his dick. He watches as Ryan bites on his bottom lip and lets his head fall back against the back of the couch. 

"Fuck, Vince - fucking hell," Ryan says through gritted teeth, as he arches his hips slightly, matching Vince's strokes, as Vince brings his mouth down, his teeth nipping at Ryan's shoulder.

"Come for me, Ryan," Vince orders, increasing the tempo of his strokes. His teeth nip at Ryan's neck, before he brings his mouth up to Ryan's ear. "Come on … _maintenant_."

Ryan digs his nails into the skin of Vince's thigh as he finally comes with a low moan, spilling hotly over Vince's hand. 

It is a long moment before either of them move. Ryan has an easy grin on his lips as Vince looks down at him. "Well, that was fun." 

Vince's mouth is set in a thin line. "You could try not to enjoy this so much."

Ryan's lip twitches. "Where's the fun in that?"

Vince rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, fighting the urge to collapse. He helps Ryan to his feet. "Good point." 

Vince is actually surprised that they make it to the shower. 

They end up laying side by side on the bed. Vince has a hand half-stretched towards Ryan's, his fingertips barely grazing Ryan's. All the words he has finally bubble to the surface, and before he can stop himself he finds himself blurting out the first words that come to mind. "Why did you leave that night when you said you would stay?"

Ryan chuckles. His eyes trained on his ceiling. "You snore, y'know that?"

"Could you try to be serious for like, maybe five minutes, and give me a straight answer, Ryan?"

"We're on a first name basis now?"

Vince sighs, and shifts his body closer to Ryan's. He almost breathes a sigh of relief when Ryan doesn't move away. His words are candied together, they feel sticky, and cling to his throat. "You gonna complain?"

Ryan runs a hand through his hair, before he rubs it across his face. "Not currently, I won't."

Vince hesitates a beat. "What are we even doing, Ryan?"

"Well isn't that a loaded question." Ryan runs his index finger down Vince's shoulder, before he lets his eyes fall on Vince's. "What do you want this to be?"

The atmosphere around them changes in that instant. Vince goes over every word of Ryan's question. Breaks apart every word, every syllable, and then dissects them all again. "Are you going to tell me why you left that night?" 

Ryan is quiet for so long, Vince is almost sure he has dozed off. He shifts, and when his eyes catch on Ryan's, all his breath leaves his body.

"I had to."

Vince reaches a hand out, curving it against Ryan's cheek. "Ryan -"

"Don't ask me for anything more than that right now," Ryan whispers, finality in his tone. 

Vince leans across the space, presses his mouth against his, and curls an arm around his neck. "Okay."

They fall asleep, and when Ryan stirs a few hours later, Vince is curled against him, the crown of his head the only part of him visible to Ryan's eyes. 

"I can't watch you leave first," he breathes into Vince's hair, memories chasing him long after he falls back into a dream-filled sleep.


End file.
